


Of alcohol and drama kings

by Raspberyl



Series: Such is life at Marshal University [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fist Fights, Hangover, M/M, Sex Talk, Sexual Content, hot dogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberyl/pseuds/Raspberyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Social alcoholism is mostly harmless. Except when it makes you take dark, tall strangers into your dorm room, some of them not strangers at all. Sam/Raiden, College AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of alcohol and drama kings

Drinking had three phases. The first one was the prologue, as he liked to call it. It was often boring, sometimes too long when the drinks served were light. It required conversation,  _sober_  conversation, something Raiden wasn’t very good at; he could only talk to a limited number of people comfortably when sober—Rosemary, Kev, Courtney, which reminded him of the inadequacy he wasn’t too fond of but characterized him. He didn’t really mind having few friends, truth be told, and didn’t care about what others thought of him, but when in a party, where conversation with total strangers was required, he crumbled apart a little; and although he wasn’t incompetent by any means when it came to social interactions, alcohol sure helped him unwind and loose his tongue.

Then came Jack’s favorite, which was actually  _being_  drunk. Body relaxed more and more with every shot of tequila and he felt lighthearted, his anxieties suddenly gone. He could interact almost normally with everyone around him. Almost, because his awkward, blunt sense of humor couldn’t be fixed by all the booze in the world. Still, it was one of the few times he felt he could be just like everyone else, because no matter how much Kevin reassured him that he was only slightly more introverted than the average folk and only  _a little_  stiff, he knew he was only being kind. The reason he managed to be friends with him and the rest in the first place was because they were all so abnormally outgoing and amiable—because they basically chased him around until he didn’t have a choice  _but_ to be their friend.

Then there was the third and final phase, his  _least_ favorite: The hangover. It was the reason why he wasn’t a complete alcoholic, but rather only a social one. Sometimes he couldn’t get out of bed, his head pounding with such intensity he would think he willingly let someone hit his head with a baseball bat, and it would only get worse if he tried to get up.

Or move at all.

Or blink.

Or think.

Or  _exist._  

Sometimes it came with nausea, too, sometimes his eyes would burn, sometimes the slightest sigh would make his nerves stand on edge.

Like the sigh that graced the back of his shoulder.

His eyes snapped open.

It was hard to focus his sight on one spot, but when he finally managed to, the first thing he saw was Kevin’s bed in front of him, undone and messy, but there.

Good. That meant he was in his room.

That, however, didn’t explain the hairy arm wrapped around his waist.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

His brain started working frantically—He had heard of this, heard of it happening to other people, in movies, in books: Waking up in bed with a complete stranger after a night of drinking, with no clue of how they got there or what did they exactly _do_ ; having to deal with the consequences, the repercussions that mistake could have on their relationships, the risk of pregnancy…

Well. Not that he had to worry about  _that_.

But there was still enough to worry about as it was, anyway. Did he use protection? Did guys use protection when doing it, even? What exactly  _did_  he do? And how the  _hell_  did it even happen? How did he let it happen? Did he even know this guy? Did he even  _like_  guys? Since when? He never really thought much about his sexuality; all his relationships had been with girls, and while he did get hit on by guys every once in a while due to them either being confused by his androgynous appearance or genuinely finding him attractive he didn’t think much of it. However, going from neutral doubt to  _waking up in bed completely naked with a man_  was a bit too huge of a jump in his perception of himself to just take it in stride.

Neurons going at 500 miles per hour even though it felt like they could barely speed up to 30, a thousand answerless questions rose up and all with one objective: Keeping him from actually turning around and taking in exactly how badly he had fucked up. Best case scenario, the man was a stranger, someone who had picked him up (or whom  _he_  had picked up, hell if he knew—Raiden didn’t feel like going back into the sexuality-questioning merry-go-round just yet) during the party. Worst case scenario, it was someone he knew, someone who went to class with him or went to the same club; though he couldn’t really think of anyone he’d sleep with given the chance—

“… Ghr… Minha cabeça…”

No.

Jack squinted his eyes shut.

Maybe if he waited long enough he’d wake up. Maybe the person behind him would morph into someone else. Maybe Rosemary. They got along wonderfully, and he was pretty sure it could go further if given enough time.

“Ah.”

Alright. Alright. Not Rose. Maybe he was asking for too much. He could settle with Courtney. She was cute, though her love for exotic, expensive cuisine would probably render him penniless in a month, if not sooner.

“Jack?”

Just. Just change into Kevin. He could deal with Kevin. They were friends for years, trusted each other, and he  _was_  fairly attractive—

“Heavy sleeper, eh? Maybe I should use my mouth to wake you up.”

A tiger was fine. He’d settle for a tiger. He could wrestle a tiger, he could let it tear his throat apart—anything was better than—

“Should I kiss your ear? Your back? Or lower…?”

“DON’T TOUCH ME.”

Raiden regretted dearly every single movement afterwards—Bolting off of his bed resulted in him falling unceremoniously on his ass in a whirlwind of sheets and pillows, subsequently hitting the back of his head with the nightstand nearby. He yelled in spite of himself, and though the voice he managed to painfully push out of his dry throat was hoarse and croaky, it was still loud enough to make his head hurt to the point of feeling dizzy. The only positive outcome of his overreaction was that Sam, still sitting on his bed, kept holding onto his head and cursing in Portuguese under his breath, head probably pounding just like his, punishment for a night of overindulgence.

“Ngh…” He laid back on the bed, voice strained and low, as if he were purring to calm his nerves down. “… Not a morning person, are you, Jack?”

“Sam.”

He said his name as if still hoping the man on his bed would turn into something else, anything but goddamn Samuel Rodrigues. His face didn’t transform though, and his lazy grin only got wider.

“Sam, what the  _hell_.”

“What? First time experiencing a hangover?” Jack didn’t even dignify that question with a response and just glared, earning no more than a soft, rumbling laugh from the Brazilian. “Sometimes your head hurts. Sometimes you feel nausea. Sometimes you wake up with an extra body in your bed.”

“How… why…”

“Hm. Good questions.” He scratched his bearded chin absent-mindedly, not looking particularly interested in answering them. “Unfortunately, I can’t remember much at the moment.”

His gut reaction was yelling at him for being so damn useless, but it wasn’t like he could remember much either.

It was just another party Courtney had dragged him to, he put together, grasping for little bits and pieces of memories wandering around in his head, because everyone else was too busy—Both Rose and Kevin were buried in work, the latter even going as far as telling Raiden he wasn’t going to set a foot into the dorm until he finished his paper for Boris. And with no one else there to speak to once Courtney was dragged away by her girlfriends, he had looked for something to drink to at least try and have fun with the sea of strangers. He remembered lights, noises, voices, known and unknown. He remembered laughing, he remembered talking till his throat hurt, faces, or smiles, rather.

Then fighting.

Then an empty hall.

“Ugh.”

He stopped fishing for memories for his brain’s sake, throbbing joining the dull pain on the back of his head. That break didn’t last long, though, the cogs in his brain turning again when he looked over at Sam, sprawled on his bed, also seemingly lost in thought. He was probably trying to figure out exactly what happened as well, but unlike the blonde, it wasn’t something he was too worried over, fingers absent-mindedly burying themselves in his dark, thick hair.

_Why Sam?_

The Brazilian had arrived at Marshal University as an exchange student a few months ago, and since then, their relationship had been turbulent at best. The man had joined the Japanese martial arts club, claiming that his father owned a dojo back in Brazil that specialized in kenjutsu. Those claims were soon backed up by his ability with the bokken, and eventually, with a real katana he brought at their sensei’s request, a fine Japanese blade inherited for generations through his family. Within a month Sam was deemed the most proficient swordsman in the club, and was even asked to assist his teacher by easing the new members into the arts of the sword.

Their quarrel hadn’t begun because of his ability, though. While it was true Sam had taken his place as the most skilled in the group with surprising ease, he didn’t particularly care—If anything, he was glad he finally had someone to have a decent match with. No, it had nothing to do with actual sword fighting, but ideals.

A month after Sam arrival, Raiden had stayed behind to chat with his teacher like every afternoon after practice about various things—Often Japanese culture, as they both passionately studied it in their spare time. Although he was usually the first one to leave, Sam had lagged behind as well that day, curious once his ear caught loose words and terms he was familiar with. It was only when the blonde started talking about Issatsu Tasho that he snorted loud enough for the two men to finally notice his presence, though, and Jack turned around to find a grin, wide and smug and a couple of eyes that seemed to smile just as mockingly.

It was their first clash and the only one they needed to permanently define their relationship as nothing but unpleasant.

Coming from a dojo that revolved around Satsujinken, Sam found ideas not only unrealistic, but naive, just like the low-budget, third rate Hollywood movies and fairy tales he probably took them out of. His words stung not only because of the mocking, degrading tone in them that only seemed accentuated by his blunt accent, but because they weren’t far from the truth—Raiden’s exposure to Kenjutsu and Japanese knowledge in general came from old Samurai movies and books, much different from growing surrounded by actual swordmasters like Sam.

They debated for the rest of the afternoon until it got dark, their Sensei looking thoroughly uncomfortable, worry intensifying in his face the more aggressive their tones got, both students getting more frustrated with each other every minute that passed; Because even though the Brazilian feigned cool amusement, his tense posture betrayed him and showed that Raiden’s words did get to him somehow, or did at least hit some sort of sore spot.

Eventually, their ideological disagreement translated to their matches—The strength and speed held back when they dealt with rookies and other members of the club came fully in play when they dueled each other, matches so spectacular even outsiders stayed behind to watch and cheer whenever one of them managed to strike the other down. So aggressive their matches got, that sometimes swords were discarded and they resorted to plain fist-fighting. It was often a poor decision for Raiden, as Sam easily beat him to the floor with grapples similar to the ones used in judo, using his heavy body to his advantage to keep the Liberian down until his rage subsided and he finally admitted defeat with a frustrated snarl. Then, as he loosened his grip on the blonde’s wrists, he leaned close to his ear:

“Always nice to have you under me again, gatinho.”

Then Raiden punched his face again before the Brazilian could even begin to react and the fight started anew, with cheers and jeers from the crowd.

Only when their sensei threatened to ban them both from the dojo did they stop their brawling—It was pointless, anyway, as after weeks of fighting, Raiden’s skills got on par with Sam’s and soon every match ended in a draw. Raiden did his best to completely avoid his rival then, growing tired of the bickering, but he could swear Sam found ways to cross paths with him anyway, encounters that would lead to nothing but exchanges of unpleasant remarks that kept the anger fresh.

The creaking of the bed brought Raiden out of his musings. Back in reality, Sam was somewhat more composed, or at least did a damn good job pretending he was as he sat up, yawned, then stretched lazily as if he were in his own comfortable bed. The man was stark naked, thin, red scratches down his back and near his hips telling a story that made a mix of dread and shame pool in the blonde’s belly.

And then suddenly it hit him.

Sam was  _stark_   _naked_.

"Hey, cover yourself up, will you!?"

"Hm?" He turned to him and Raiden looked away, feeling ridiculously bashful all of a sudden. With raised eyebrows, Sam then looked down at his own body and made a sound of understanding. "Oh. Well, there really isn’t much around here I can use for that. Unless you’re planning to return those sheets and be naked yourself."

"Hell no." As if to reaffirm his point, he clung to the sheets and blankets like they were his armor, and he heard Sam chuckle. "Just find your goddamn clothes."

"What is the point? We saw more than enough of each other last night."

Raiden groaned at the reminder. Pushing aside whatever reservations he had, he forced himself to look at the other man in the eye again, as if he’d find the answer to the one question he wanted the answer to:

“‘The hell  _happened_  last night?”

Sam shrugged, disinterested.

"It does not matter."

"What do you mean ‘it doesn’t matter’!? I don’t know about you, but I’d actually like to know exactly  _how_  I ended up in this situation—Even more importantly, how I ended up in this situation with  _you_  out of all people.” Sam let out an amused grunt.

"Am I somehow a special case that you care so much about that?"

"Oh yeah, you’re special. Just not a good kind of special." Raiden replied with a roll of his eyes and the other chuckled, irritatingly relaxed.

"People have sex for many reasons, Jack. Usually, it is just because they find each other attractive—"

"Yeah right." He blurted out, then scoffed. "Attractive? We’ve never exactly been pining for each other, have we? I—Well,  _you_  know. You don’t think of me that way and—”

Sam made a questioning noise and Raiden stopped in his tracks, lips tensing slightly before opening his mouth again.

"Wait, do you?"

The Brazilian made another sound, shrugged slightly, then smiled.

"You  _are_  very pretty.”

Raiden spluttered and proceeded to roll his eyes to the other’s sincere smile—Jackass was trying to get under his skin again, wasn’t he? He was a damn expert at riling people up, so refusing to fall in his little game, he simply pretended he hadn’t just heard that, not noticing how his hands pulled the sheets a little higher up his stomach.

“I remember fighting.”

Raiden’s head snapped up at Sam’s words. He was looking thoughtfully up to the ceiling while his hands worked dark strands of hair into his usual ponytail.

“Yeah—Yeah, I do too. Not a clue why we were fighting, though.”

“We rarely do have a reason.” He chuckled, shrugging. “You’re too quick to get angry, Jack.”

“Maybe you’re just too quick to be an asshole.”

“See?” Then he shook his index finger in the blonde’s direction. “Temper, temper.”

“Don’t give me that. You’re as responsible as I am for every single fight we’ve had.”

“Well… I will admit making you angry has become one of my favorite pastimes.”

“That’s nice. Ever tried knitting, instead? I heard it’s relaxing and good for your nerves. Or at least I know It would be good for  _my_  nerves.”

“You didn’t think last night was relaxing? My nerves feel just fine thanks to you.”

If moving didn’t make him feel like vomiting his innards out, Raiden would’ve socked the smug grin off his face.

“How—How can you be so calm about this—Ugh.” Moving forward was a bad idea. “What if someone saw us—Urk!” Moving  _backward_  was a bad idea. “Jesus. I’m never drinking again.”

“Ah, I’ve heard that one before.” Sam smiled, watching Raiden trying to find a position that wouldn’t make him feel like death.  “Also, I am calm because I do not care what people I don’t know think of me.”

“How about people who  _do_  know you?”

“I care even less.” Sam yawned again, then shrugged. “I honestly do not see the problem. We are not the first nor will be the last to make less than smart choices when in a drunken stupor.”

“This wasn’t less than smart, Sam. This was undoubtedly the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Ah, please, Jack. You’re being… ay, how was it again? Ah—A drama queen.”

“A  _drama queen_.” The blonde repeated, giving Sam a long, blank stare. “You sure you’re not still drunk?”

“Unlike you, I don’t need alcohol to gain a sense of humor.”

Raiden gritted his teeth, but decided against starting yet another argument. What he needed was to get away from that guy as soon as possible and find someone sane to talk to. Hopefully that someone would have an aspirin, as well.

He tried standing up, only to fall back on his butt clumsily, his entire body screaming murder at the impact.

Screw aspirins, what he needed was  _morphine_.

He made another attempt, and managed to stand on his own two legs that felt wobbly and weak like he had just run a marathon. Hand still firmly holding the sheets to his waist, he started fishing around the room for his clothes, and along those came a bunch of other questions. Why were his socks on the ceiling fan? How the hell did his pants end up under the night stand?  _Were those Kevin’s briefs or Sam’s_?

“Those would be mine, thank you.”

Raiden tried his best to not jump away from Sam like a frightened rabbit when he felt the taller man’s voice rumble near his shoulder, one big hand coming to snatch the piece of clothing out of his grasp. Making a mental note to  _not turn at around_  until he heard the sound of a zipper or something similar, Raiden continued fishing for his clothes, bending down with difficulty to check over and under every single piece of furniture in the room. Each movement was accompanied by a grunt, a long string of grievances or simply, a heavy sigh, body aching all over.

“God, my ass hurts.”

He said that to himself without thinking, figuring it was as harmless as all the other complaints he was muttering. When Sam let out a snort, though, he realized the implications of his own words.

"Shut up. Just shut—"

“I wanted to be gentler, you know.” God, he could  _hear_  the enormous smile on his face. “But after you told me to ‘stop bullshitting around’ and ‘fuck you raw’ I had little choice.”

“I—I did not…” Raiden’s voice caught in his throat because for a moment, in a flash, he heard those words in his head with terrifying clarity. He shook his head desperately. “I—Stop making shit up!”

“I’m plenty of things, bonito. A liar isn’t one of them.” He chuckled when the blonde yanked the shoe he was holding in his hand, avoiding his eyes by all means necessary. “I suppose you do not remember you asking me to pull your hair, then?”

_Oh god._

“You remember  _everything_  don’t you!?”

“Only my favorite parts. Admittedly, there are still plenty of blanks in my head—If you want, we can just sit and reminisce, although I will have to ask you for a cup of coffee in exchange for my memories.”

“I—Fuck you.”

With the Brazilian’s laughter behind him, Raiden stormed out with his shoes in his hands—Spending another second with that guy in the same room was going to drive him positively  _insane_.

The cold winter wind entering through the hallway’s windows hit him like a brick as soon as he stepped out the door, but it was refreshing nonetheless, and he took a second to inhale deeply, then exhale long and hard, as if trying to purge all the physical pain, discomfort and stress. It worked quite well, suddenly feeling better; though he wasn’t quite sure if it was the fresh air or simply the fact he wasn’t in the vicinity of Samuel Rodrigues.

…

Yeah, it was definitely the second one.

Whatever. He was feeling better with just that, so at least things were starting to look up.

Yes, up.

… He was freezing.

When he turned around, Sam’s hand was already out, holding his jacket.

His head started pounding again.

_Like hell things were looking up._


	2. Of denial and friendly talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin and Courtney decide it's time for an intervention.

Thankfully, Sam hadn’t followed him out of the room after handing him his jacket. If it was either out of laziness or because, for once, he wanted to be considerate to Raiden, he didn’t know nor did he really care—He was just glad he had some time alone to rearrange his thoughts and memories to try and figure out what in the world had happened the night prior.

‘It does not matter’

_Like hell it doesn’t matter._

Raiden gritted his teeth in frustration. How was the guy so calm about the whole ordeal, he had no clue. You didn’t just wake up one day holding in your arms someone you spent months and months fighting and insulting, you didn’t go from nearly poking out their eye with a wooden sword to screwing them for a whole night straight. But it had happened, even if the pieces didn’t fit, even if it defied reason, and the more he thought about it, the more baffling it was, and at the same time, the more he feared thinking about it _too much_. He feared actually finding _sense_ to it.

Maybe that was why Sam wasn’t too worried.

Maybe he had already figured it out.

Dread replacing chaotic uncertainty, his priority suddenly wasn’t thinking anymore. Trying his hardest to keep his mind blank, Raiden walked aimlessly through the dorms’ hallways, only encountering a couple of people along the otherwise empty corridors. It was still early for most students, after all, and there was the fact that the party last night had been so massive and rampageous, half the dorm was probably lying unconscious on their bed if not the floor. The few faces that appeared before the blonde were pale, or rather green, and twisted with malaise, showing their owners were probably dealing with the same physical pain he was.

Well, not exactly the same, he thought, cheeks warming with shame as he tried his best to keep his limp as subtle as possible.

“... they totally did it, didn’t they…?”

“Shh!”

Raiden wasn’t one to usually eavesdrop on others’ conversations. No, he usually kept to himself, only taking notice of people he knew and tuning out everyone else. However, his ears caught that particular sentence fortuitously and he stopped dead in his tracks, his brain doing the opposite and speeding up. Suddenly, with his heart in his throat, the blonde became hyper-aware of his surroundings.

A giggle.

He looked over at the students conversing behind him, and he could’ve sworn they turned around right before he could get a good look at them.

They didn’t… they couldn’t know…

It was unreasonable, and he knew it. They could be talking about anyone or _anything_ really—So many things happened in a party of those proportions, after all. But paranoia reared its ugly head regardless, easily beating down reason to a bloody pulp, and Jack found himself nervously looking at eyes that seemed to purposefully avoid his, eyes that he could feel staring at his back once he passed them by.

He was imagining things. There was no way they knew.

There was no way—

In his consternation, Raiden didn’t pay attention to where he was walking and he bumped into a girl he recognized immediately: She was in the same club as him, a rookie he had spoken to a couple of times but couldn’t quite remember her name. After a moment of confusion, she clearly recognized him as well, eyes widening with surprise.

And then, she blushed.

“G-Good morning, Jack!”

“... ‘morning.”

The girl nodded, and after a second of awkward doubt, she slithered away, clearly hiding a little grin as she walked past him.

 _They knew_.

He turned around, looking back at all the people he had passed by, and all eyes, at the same time, focused on random empty points in space.

_… Didn’t they?_

He was going insane.

In a panic, he ran over to the courtyard. More eyes seemed to avoid him wherever he went, eyes he didn’t know and didn’t know him, yet had a reason to rest on him, to follow him in his frenzy as he scuttled away from them.

 _They knew, they knew_.

_Why. How._

When he finally dared look up from the ground, a familiar frame caught his eye and for the first time that day, Raiden felt a surge of something positive in his chest.

“Kevin!”

He regretted calling his name right away: His voice sounded pathetically feeble, thin and rough, like he had been yelling all night. Fortunately, he didn’t have to repeat the feat, since his friend, sitting on a table in the middle of the courtyard with Courtney, heard him regardless and greeted him with a familiar half-smile.

“Hey, Rai.” He wasn’t avoiding his eyes like the rest of the students in the hallways and for once, Raiden rested easy. Maybe he had worried too much after all. Maybe people didn’t know a damn thing. “You don’t look so good, man.”

“Yeah—I…” He brought a hand to his neck and smiled for the first time that day. ”Rough night.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Raiden froze on the spot as Kevin returned to his breakfast, and Courtney eyed him sideways.

_Fuck._

“W… What do you mean?”

He _knew_ the question was absolutely useless, he _knew_ what he meant. He _knew_ why Courtney was looking at him like that, why she was so intent on keeping her lips hidden behind the steaming cup of coffee in spite of her fogged glasses. Why Kevin’s face had gotten a little stiff until it finally broke into a smile.

“Do you really need to ask, Mr. Jack Rodrigues?”

“ _Christ._ ” Raiden stomped the floor and turned his back on them, defeated, as Courtney snorted and Kevin’s grin went almost all the way up to his ears.

“You weren’t so catholic last night, that’s for sure.”

“KEVIN.”

Both friends burst out laughing then, and the blonde gritted his teeth, cheeks ablaze. So much for his stupid mistake going unnoticed by others. He hadn’t imagined the looks and the whispers, no, it wasn’t all in his head, it wasn’t an horrible, horrible nightmare.

_Everyone in the goddamn dorm knew that he had slept with Sam._

“I can’t believe this—I—” He held his head in his hands, fingers roughly going through strands of hair and pulling in desperation. “ _How?_ I—I’m pretty sure that no matter how drunk I was last night I would’ve at least tried to keep this whole— _thing—_ a goddamn secret!”

“Well, I hate to break this out to you Raiden, but you didn’t even try.” Courtney took a sip of her coffee, remnants of a smile still on her lips. “Even Doktor knows about it.”

“Man, even Armstrong knows your ‘secret’ by now, for all we know. Might as well phone the White House and ask if they know over there, too.”

“Why? How?” He repeated, racking his brain to find answers, but no memories came. He ran his fingers through his hair again, slightly shaking his head side to side. “We didn’t—We didn’t just do it in public, did we? Jesus, if we did.. ”

“Oh no, don't you worry. It all happened in our room, I can testify to that.”

“I—What?” Raiden stopped his theatrics only to give a look of confusion at Kevin, who returned a shrug and took another bite of his sandwich. “... What do you mean, ‘testify to that’?”

“Well, uh, you could say I... had a first row seat all for myself when it happened.”

“Meaning…?” He scowled, exasperated, not really feeling like playing guessing games. Kevin did not budge, though, simply rolling his eyes.

“Raiden, we’re roommates. _Think._ ”

“... No… You weren’t—I mean, you were supposed to be with Boris all night last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes… supposedly.”

Hitting him like a train, Raiden felt his knees weaken. “Did you walk in on us—?”

“Uh, not exactly. _You_ guys walked in on _me_.”

“... What _?_ ”

“Yeah.” Kevin rubbed his temples and yawned before continuing. “See, I finished earlier than expected yesterday, but I was dead tired, so I skipped the party and went straight to bed. It was aaall fine and dandy, until the door freaking slams open and I woke up to what looked like a brawl right in the doorway, aaand…” A pause for dramatic effect. “...Then I realized it was anything _but_ a brawl. In fact, it was the exact opposite.”

“Shit, Kev…” Raiden wondered if his face looked as hot as it felt, his stomach twisting with guilt and shame. Kevin kept talking with his ever so relaxed smile, though.

“When I managed to actually understand what was going on, I ran outta there and crashed at Courtney’s. Had to sleep on the floor, of course, but even that was better than my own bed at the moment.”

“Hey, I gave you a blanket.”

“We’re in the middle of December, Courtney.” She was about to protest, but Raiden spoke up first, running his fingers through his hair compulsively.

“Kev, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you were there, I—”

“Hey man, don’t worry about it. How many times have you slept outside for my sake when I get to take a cute girl to the room?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t _have sex with them right next to me!_ ”

“True, true... but I also told you I wouldn’t be in the room that night. ‘sides, it _was_ pretty funny. Sam even gave me a thumbs up as I was leaving.”

“... _I’m going to kill Rodrigues_.”

“Hey, c’mon Raiden.” Kevin's smile wavered for the first time, unsure if the blonde was being serious or not. ”See now, you’re my friend and I don’t want to visit you in prison, so calm down, take a deep breath, and sit.” His soft, soothing tone of voice only made Raiden feel more frustrated, unfortunately, not being fond of being talked to as if he were a nervous puppy.

“I don’t need to take a deep breath. I don’t need to sit. I need this whole goddamn thing to be a _nightmare.”_

“Kevin’s right, you know.” Supported Courtney, shaking her spoon at him. ”You need to calm down. You’re being a drama queen.”

“You too—!? Ugh—” He ignored their looks of confusion, and put a hand on the table. ”Look. Everyone and their mother knows I slept with a guy I can’t stand and brawled with for months. I think I have a _right_ to be a little dramatic about this!” His head suddenly throbbed, reminding him that he was in no state to raise his voice. Unconsciously following his friend’s advice, Raiden took a deep breath and tried to lower his tone. “... How does everyone know, anyway?”

“Well…”

Kevin doubted for the first time, as if frightened that saying anything would make Raiden pull out some sort of supernatural sword and slice him to bits. Courtney simply looked away, and had a hard time hiding a little smile as her friend managed to gather the courage to speak again.

“You were a little… loud.”

“Loud? What do you mean, ‘loud’?”

Kevin winced again—It seemed he had asked the one question he _didn’t_ want to answer.

“Uh, that’s...”

“‘Loud’ means ‘Your whore moans could be heard all across campus’, little Jack.”

Familiar voice making him cringe with revulsion, Raiden turned around stiffly to find Monsoon on a table nearby, dark eyes smiling smugly under a garish shiba dog hat. Too distraught by his words to even think about how or when he had actually gotten there, the blonde turned around again to look at Kevin and a very red-faced Courtney, eyes wide.

“ _What_?” He asked. “My _what_?”

“Well, not exactly how I’d word it… and ‘all across the campus’ is definitely an exaggeration, but basically, yeah.” He seemed a bit more relaxed now that Raiden hadn’t murdered Monsoon on the spot for clarifying—Still unexplainable, he had a temper, yes, but he was no homicidal psychopath. Yet. “You know how Courtney’s room is pretty far from ours? When I crashed there I still could hear you two going at it a little _too clearly_.”

“ _What_.” He felt that word was the only thing he could utter and Courtney finally broke into a giggling fit, face red as a cherry. “‘The hell do you mean ‘too clearly’!?”

“You were so cute! I-I mean… it was unusual.” She corrected herself quickly when Kevin gave her a warning look to keep her from pushing Raiden too far. “To hear your voice like that, and saying those things… Um, I’m sure you didn’t wake anyone though! I think...”

“You mean people could hear us? Doing...?”

“Eeevery single thing.”

“Yup.”

_Fantastic._

That one word echoed in his mind, toneless and apathetic, and Raiden wondered if he could catch the soonest flight to Mexico if he ran to the airport fast enough.

Before he could start figuring out whether he wanted to live in Guadalajara or Ecapetec, he was painfully pulled back to reality from his half-crazed brooding by Monsoon’s voice, his tone silky and venomous and his words as sharp as a razor. “I must say, Jack, you are quite the vulgar little slut. I learned words I didn’t even know existed until you screamed them at the top of your lungs. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“You shut the fuck up.” Monsoon only grinned to his threatening finger and Raiden felt the urge to pull every single teeth out of his mouth with his bare hands. “Why are you here, anyway!? Did you only come here to laugh at me? Then laugh, and get the hell away from me! I have enough on my plate as is.”

The son of a bitch only tilted his head innocently, though, unimpressed. “Oh, I’d rather stay. Things are far too boring lately and this conversation certainly seems promising.”

“You—!”

“Raiden, ignore him.” Said Kevin, rolling his eyes. “Guy’s harmless. And I really think we need to talk, anyway.”

“... Talk?”

“Yeah, man to man. Well, man to man and woman, really.” He corrected quickly when Courtney cleared her throat loudly.

“... I don’t need to talk.”

“Just sit down, buddy.”

“You can have some of my coffee if your head still hurts.” The blonde offered her cup to him but Raiden rose his hand and shook it nervously, alarms going off in his head at the prospect of having to seriously talk about the whole mess. Of having to think about it.

Of finding sense to it all.

He needed to get out of there.

“I’m fine. I—There’s really nothing to talk about. I made a mistake—”

Kevin rose his eyebrows so high, Raiden wished he could smack them back down with his hand.

“A mistake?” He contemplated his reply, or pretended to, at least, scratching his chin thoughtfully. ”Was it a mistake?”

A confused frown. “Excuse me?”

“Coco, was it a mistake?” Kevin looked at Courtney, who was bearing the same smartass look he was. Then she looked at the Liberian, smiling knowingly.

“Hm, I wonder.”

“What are you two even talking about—”

“ _Sit down, Raiden_.”

He felt a little like Sunny’s dog when, under the voices of both of his friends, he obediently plopped on the only free seat left on the table. Behind Courtney was still Monsoon, listening to their conversation with mild interest and increasing amusement as he drank from a cup of coffee of his own.

This couldn’t be good.

“So while you two were snoozing away, I waited out here with Courtney and we got to talk.”

“Talk.”

“Yes. About you.”

“Me.”

“Yes, Raiden. You and Sam.” He rose a hand to stop Raiden from compulsively blurting out every word he heard like an automaton. “Now, I saw it coming from a mile away but—”

“You what?” Oh god, how many times had he asked that question in an hour? “You _saw it coming_? The hell do you mean by that!?”

“Um, I agreed.”

“You wha—” Dammit! “You—You…!?”

“Courts, let’s recapitulate, please.” Acting like a CEO in the middle of an important business meeting, Kevin relaxed back into his seat and took a sip of his coffee. “How many times did you tell me you caught him staring at him during Japanese martial arts?”

“Sheesh. Lost count around the 37th time.”

“S-Stare? What are you talking about!?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb, Raiden.” She wearied with a roll of her eyes. “Every single time I went to watch your matches, or we found him in campus, you kept staring at him until he was out of sight. I bet you would've followed him every time if you could've, too.”

“I—I don’t STARE—I glare! We’re—He’s my rival of sorts,” He admitted, feeling somewhat embarrassed to say it out loud. “H-he’s the only one who can actually take me on during practice.” Ignoring their exchange of skeptic looks, he continued: “And he pisses me off in general! So I glare a lot at him, alright!?”

… Why was he sounding so defensive?

Why the hell was Kevin’s eyebrow so high again?

“Mm-hm. I hear you, my man, but there’s also this:” He pointed at Courtney. “How many times did his eyes wander south during those ‘glares’?”

“More times than mine. Sam’s got a nice butt, but I’ve seen better.”

“I—I don’t…!”

“C’mon Raiden.”

“C’mon Raiden _what!_ ” He yelled, the pounding in his head increasing with the volume of his voice. “I don’t—I don’t _check Sam out_. You’re crazy. Both of you. But you, especially _you_.”

“Don’t you point that finger at me, mister.” She slapped his index away, a strict air around her like a mother who was being defied by a rebellious son. “I know what I saw. And whether you did it consciously or not, your eyes _did_ go way below the belt more times than even mine ever did, and I stare a _lot_.”

Kevin rose an eyebrow at her words. “You sure that’s something you want to go around saying, Court?”

“Oh, shut up. I won’t be the first nor the last woman checking out guys' butts.”

“Really, now? Have you checked _mine_ out?” She shook her hand dismissively.

“Six outta ten, Kev.”

“Six!” He exclaimed, feigning indignation. “I’m an eight through and through!”

“That’s Raiden! Yours is way too flat.”

“F-Fla—! I _demand_ a reevaluation.”

“Look, “Raiden growled, impatience getting the best of him, not really caring about ass ratings at the moment—Or ever, for that matter. “I’m sure this conversation is _very important_ to you both, so I’m gonna just go now and—”

“ _Sit your ass back down_.”

Reminded of their original conversation, Kevin pulled his arm and made him sit again by his side. He paused, as if to give everyone a second to get back in track, then spoke up again.

“Look. Let’s suppose you weren’t actually partly responsible for this…”

“It’s not a supposition.”

“... Sam was still clearly down for it since he met you, anyway.” He finished over Raiden’s words with a roll of his eyes.

“... _Down_?” It was his turn to rise his eyebrows so high he thought they would take off. In fact, please take off. It would probably lead to a saner conversation than their current one. “Down.”

“Yeah, Raiden, down.”

“Oh yeah, down.” Echoed Courtney, pushing her glasses up. “He was always flirting with you.”

“Flirting with me.” Raiden repeated, tone absolutely flat. Those two had gone mad. The world was going mad. _He_ was going mad. “Flirting with me when!? When we were beating each other up with wooden sticks or when we did it with our bare fists!?”

“During both, really. I mean obviously you piss him off, too, but he was at least honest enough to admit he found you attractive and went as far as telling you all the time.”

“... You mean all those times he called me ‘pretty boy’? He was making fun of me!” He knew his voice was getting too loud again and his brain was begging him to stop, but Raiden was too baffled to care if he died from the pain anymore. “He’s your typical jock who thinks any man who doesn’t look like a gorilla might as well be a woman!”

“Well, I thought so too, but then he started calling you stuff like bonito…”

“And belo, guapo…”

“Don’t forget gatinho.” Raiden shook his head, desperate.

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about— I don’t know Portuguese!”

“It’s all stuff like cutie, babe…” His friend explained, then gave him a questioning look. “I thought you knew Spanish?”

“Just basic things… and some of those words are Spanish too—I just... just didn’t think they meant the same thing in both languages.”

“They _are_ pretty similar, so they have a bunch of words in common.”

“...Thank you for the language lesson, Kev, but he’s still probably just calling me that to make fun of me.”

“Do _you_ call your rivals 'babe' when you want to mock them?”

Raiden pursed his lips, then pressed them tightly shut like a spoiled child. He didn’t want to answer that, and everyone knew why. Courtney put a hand on her forehead and rolled her eyes.

“God. Raiden, sometimes you can be so stubborn.”

“Besides, you asked if he flirted with you when you were playing with wooden swords? How was it again…?” Kevin pretended to think deeply for a second. “‘Always nice to have you under me'...?”

Raiden felt like the color should’ve drained out of his face but instead it rushed back up. “Tha—Uh—” A pause. “… that’s not how I interpreted that.”

“That’s because you’re so dense that even osmium would float on you, my friend.” Courtney blinked, then gave Kevin a bewildered look.

“... ‘The heck is osmium?”

“Oooh, someone skipped science class.”

“... We’re studying business administration, Kevin, we don’t _have_ science. I swear, this is what I get for befriending nerds like you—”

“Excuse you…!”

His friends’ bickering faded to the background, Raiden’s focus now on memories of his past interactions with Sam. Was the Brazilian really flirting with him, and was it really so obvious that everyone but him could tell? Flirting with him while whacking his head with a wooden stick over and over again? Flirting with him as he tackled him and forced his head against the floor? The more he thought about it, the crazier it sounded—Yet simultaneously, asinine and pointless phrases and whispers mid-battle started taking a different meaning, especially the ones muttered in his ear, the ones he had once taken as nothing but infuriating taunts. He realized now, too, why their matches got more and more physical as time passed, Sam throwing his sword aside almost too quickly and daring him to attack barehanded only to end up on the floor, victim of a well-performed judo grapple.

A hand on his hip as he held him down.

His lips brushing the back of his neck when he pulled away.

“Denser. Than. Osmium.” Repeated Kevin, taking the reddening of the blonde’s ears as a good sign. Raiden shook his head, bashful, feeling like an absolute idiot.

"I didn't... I didn't realize."

"Of course you didn't. That's okay, we all have our moments of cluelessness..."

"... Or entire months..." Raiden lowered his head sheepishly.

“Okay… Okay. Fine. Maybe… Maybe you’re right about him.”

“Finally…!” Kevin rose his arms to the air in early celebration, only to get cut off by the blonde.

“ _But_...”

“... But.”

“Even… Even if he did want to, uh… you know.”

“... Yeah...?”

“I doesn’t mean I feel the same.”

“... What.”

His words were met with two sets of wide eyes, disbelief in his friends' faces contrasting against Monsoon’s tremendously pleased expression.

“Oh, that is simply _exquisite_.” He said, licking his lips as if savoring fine wine. “Denial so pure, it fits you like a glove, Jack.”

“Excuse me?”

Courtney’s fingers went through her own hair much like Raiden’s did an hour ago, in the same desperate movement, her eyes stuck on his face as if trying to figure out a puzzle that was seriously _pissing her off._ “He’s right, you know.” She fumed, voice tight. “You’re so in denial. You are _so_ in denial that it’s actually painful to me—You’re hurting me Raiden.”

“W-What!?”

“I’m going to call the hospital.” Said Kevin then, looking just as overwrought as his friend. “Maybe then they can take me too before you kill me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Between his friends’ exasperated faces and Monsoon’s delighted disbelief, he felt under attack from all angles. “Sam—Fine, maybe—M-Maybe he did flirt with me. But that doesn’t mean I wanted him to or feel anything for him at all—!”

“Your face got so freaking red when you were thinking about him, I bet I could have fried an egg on it if I tried, man!”

“T-That’s only because it’s embarrassing!”

“Oh yeah, because I bet you didn’t feel anything when he was all over you whispering shit in your ear and pretty much pinning you down to the tatami.”

“...” Raiden paused to think, then regretted it immediately, realizing that the fact he even _considered_ thinking about it was enough to tear his argument apart. “... I… I didn’t. I did not.”

“You’re a liar.” It was Kevin’s turn to point his finger at the blonde, waving it menacingly.  “You’re lying to your best friend, Raiden, I hope you know that. Will you be able to live with this?”

“I’m not lying!”

“And there’s still the fact that you check him out _all the time, anyway._ ” Said Courtney, hand on her forehead, her hair slowly falling out of her tight bun from all the times she had ran her hand over her head. Raiden opened his mouth again but found himself shutting it when Monsoon rose his hand as if he were in the middle of a class.

“In Jack’s defense—Not that I actually want to defend this fool, mind you—Jetstream’s backside _is_ quite large. It’s hard to _not_ look at it.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Raiden jumped, pointing at Monsoon like he was the piece of evidence he needed to get out of that trial of hell. “I’m not the only one who noticed, see, so—”

“Oh, so you _do_ admit you did check Sam out, then?”

“...”

Raiden glared at Kevin as if trying to burn a hole through his skull, but for once, Kevin was less than intimidated and replied with an equally intense look, his infinite patience running short for the first time in years.

“You said it, man, not me.”

“ _That’s not what I meant, you son of a_ —”

“I do think Monsoon has a point, though.” Courtney said thoughtfully. “It does look kinda big, especially when he wore that spandex suit to help out the cycling club. It stood out a lot.”

“I think that suit shaped my behind nicely, actually.”

Sam’s voice coming from behind Raiden startled everyone but Monsoon, Courtney’s especially high jump shaking the table hard enough to throw her cup off the side of it and onto the floor. Kevin slumped back on his chair and groaned, only to lower himself to pick up the cup as she offered flustered apologies to everyone out of reflex.

“What a pity.” He said once everyone calmed down, scratching his bearded chin. “I was going to ask you for some of that coffee, gatinha.” Courtney blushed to the roots of her hair and shied behind her now empty cup—She _had_ just been talking about his ass 5 seconds ago as casually as she would talk about the weather, after all.

“T-They’re serving more over there if you want…!”

“Hm, then I’ll go in a bit. Also, thank you for the compliment, Monsoon.”

The man rolled his eyes. “‘Big’ is no compliment, Minuano.”

“I’ll take it as one, anyway. Jack.”

“...”

“Bonito.”

“ _Don’t call me that!_ ”

Sam had to take a couple of steps back when Raiden jumped out of his seat and turned to face him, pointing one finger straight to his nose, teeth gritted so tight it hurt.

“This— _This._ This is _all your fault_.”

A cocky smirk he was too familiar with bloomed in the man’s face. “Is it? We were both there last night, I recall.”

He did his best to not jump Sam right then and there to shove Courtney's cup down his throat, staring into eyes that seemed to be daring him to go ahead and _try_ , just like during practice, during all those times Sam threw his sword away suspiciously soon. Behind him, his friends exchanged nervous glances, and Courtney reached out for Kevin's arm by her side.

“Hey, uh, Kev, don’t we have that, uh, class?”

“What?  Oh, right! Class! The class. How unfortunate. I guess we have to leave you two alone so you can talk, then—You too, Monsoon.”

“Don’t touch me. I don’t have any classes, it’s Sunday.”

“ _You too, Monsoon_.”

“It’s alright, Kev.” Grumbled Raiden, still staring straight into Sam's eyes. “You guys can stay here and talk with this jackass all you want. But me? I’m leaving.”

“Raiden!”

“Wait!”

He paid no heed the voices calling to him, hurrying away from them as fast as he could, but there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: A heavy sigh, and then footsteps following close behind.

Fantastic _._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!! if you got to this point i guess that means you read it all, haha! thank you very much. Criticism or comments or kudos or a little whisper in my ear are always welcome.


	3. Of denial, denial, denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raiden and Sam have a little heart to heart. Or fist to fist, rather. NSFW near the end.

“Fuck off, Sam.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“Oh, but I _am_ talking to you. I just said ‘fuck off’.”

“Funny. Did you have to drink another 20 bottles of beer to come up with that one?”

Raiden turned around and took a hold of Sam’s collar, violently pushing him to the nearest wall. Eyes sharp, he looked up at him only to realize he was clearly pleased by his reaction to the taunt, wide, smug smirk daring Raiden to do something more. He refused to entertain any longer, though, nostrils flaring as he inhaled and exhaled in an attempt to calm himself down. He let go of his collar when he managed to regain his composure and continued his way to nowhere, Sam’s steps soon joining him once he straightened his clothes.

"We are going to have to talk, Jack. You can't just sweep this under the rug and pretend it didn't happen."

"Watch me."

He heard another sigh behind him, long and heavy.

"I didn't take you for a coward."

"What? This has nothing to do with cowardice. I'm not _scared_."

'Flat out lie' said a voice in the back of his head, voice that Jack promptly shoved into a little box in his mind. Smiling as if he had heard that mischievous murmur of his conscience, Sam insisted:

"If you are not, then why are you running away?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Aha! Because you _are_ scared."

Just as Raiden was heading for another hallway, Sam blocked his path, forcing him to stop in his tracks and look at him in the eye.

"I am _not_."

Ignoring the man's scornful chuckle, he gave up the idea of going down that particular corridor and instead walked straight down his previous path. If Sam wasn't going to move out of the way, he wasn't going to force him to stand aside by any means—It was probably just another attempt at starting a fight, after all.

"What are you so scared of, Jack?"

"I said—!" Raiden cut himself short, watching out for a couple of clueless students walking by them, then lowered his voice. "Listen. I'm not scared. I'm just... confused. And pissed. Really, really pissed."

"Finally, he speaks. That wasn't so hard, was it now?" Sam clapped his hands as if congratulating a dog for a well-performed trick, and the blonde rolled his eyes. "Now, I can't really help it if you're angry. You are a very angry person, Jack. Confusion, however, can be easily dealt with..."

He nearly crashed against Sam when he got in his way again, wide smile deceivingly friendly as ever.

"... if we _talk_."

Raiden stared up at him obstinately, but his resolve was finally starting to wane. He wasn't going to get Sam off his back until he complied, was he? He would turn and turn and turn and walk for days, weeks, probably reach the South Pole and the man would still be stuck to him like glue asking questions, prodding, insisting.

He was going to have to talk about it, whether he liked it or not.

... God, he _was_ terrified.

"Fine." He grumbled, looking at the floor with a frown, like a spoiled child forced to do his least favorite chore in the world. "You wanna talk? Let's talk."  


He didn't stop walking, though, instead taking an alternative pathway nearby. Sam was close behind him but made no more attempts at stopping his mindless pacing around. He didn't speak, either, waiting for him to make the first move, so after a well-needed moment of silence, Raiden managed to rearrange his thoughts in a somewhat orderly manner for the first time that morning and spoke up.

"We... haven't been in the best terms for a good while."

"Hm."

"... That's an understatement. In fact, I'm sure a hundred percent of our conversations end in fights, be them physical or verbal."

"Mostly physical, I'd say, but I agree."

"Glad to know we're understanding each other _so well_." He said facetiously, then continued. "So, taking that in consideration, I think: 'Hey. This guy doesn't like me, and I don't like him either. We keep fighting each other over and over again.' And I come up with this... crazy, revolutionary idea: Maybe it would be better if we just _stopped_."

"Heh." Sam scratched his chin, amused. "Crazy, revolutionary, and terribly boring idea, if I have to say so myself."

Raiden huffed, befuddled and this time it was Sam who almost crashed into him, stopping just in time to avoid the blonde's damning index finger pointing straight at his nose.

"Well, maybe for _you_! I don't like fighting!" The Brazilian gave him an skeptical look.

"I think it's better if we don't lie to each other."

"I'm not lying! You think I enjoy having fights every single day of my life!?"

"I do." He let his smile falter, as if wanting to trick Raiden into believing he was actually serious for once. "If you didn't, you would not have fought me after our teacher asked us to stop. You may have been trying really hard to resist the urge, but every single time I offered the chance to engage, you took it without hesitation. Sometimes you barely even needed any provoking." His grin widened again, obnoxiously confident. "Just admit it, Jack—You're just like me. You like fighting. You like fighting _me_."

"No." Raiden shook his head stubbornly. "With a sword, maybe. But I don't—I don't like fighting."

"Please. Is that what your friends asked you to think?"

"Wh..." He frowned. "What? They have nothing to do with this."

"Really, now? Are you sure you didn't stop fighting me because they told you it was 'best for you to stop', regardless of whether you liked it or not?"

"... That's none of your business."

He felt a lump in his throat, though, and avoided Sam's eyes again. It was an habit that was becoming more and more common as the man got better at finding and picking at the cracks in his psyche he thought he had smoothed over a long time ago. That was probably why he never quite liked Sam—He somehow knew too much, had much more of an understanding of him than people who had known him for years like Rose or Kevin.

Proving him right by not buying his lie for a second, Sam continued. "Everyone enjoys a little conflict in their lives, Jack. It just happens we enjoy it more than usual." He ignored Raiden's shaking head, and continued. "Fighting is fun. Depending on the person you're fighting, it's _exciting_. You could say it's like any other sport, really—It fills you with adrenaline during and it leaves you feeling satisfied afterwards."

"...You're insane."

"And you are in denial." There was the slightest hint of impatience in the his voice, tone that reminded Raiden of his friends and made his face twist with a bitter frown.

"... Why is everybody saying that?"

"I don't know, why do you think?"

He grunted, not really feeling like dignifying that with an answer, and Sam sighed for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Maybe you should stop trying to pretend you're something you're not? We all have our oddities. Mistral likes Armstrong, for some reason that is beyond the understanding of anyone who's not, you know." He placed his index finger on his forehead and made a circular motion. "And Monsoon likes pizza with pineapple—Which I think is a crime, by the way." He added, and Raiden mentally chastised himself for almost smiling. "It so happens we enjoy fighting a little more than normal. It's nothing so terrible, so _abnormal_ that you need to hide."

"..."

Maybe it was because he was tired, but Raiden's mental defenses lowered down, and for once, let his mind ruminate on his words.

He... didn't like fighting.

Well not, _fightin_ g,fighting. Fighting, as in confronting someone in a swordfight, was fun for sure—He hadn't denied that to Sam, so he wasn't about to deny that to himself. In the midst of his matches in the dojo, he felt exhilarated and aflame, and afterwards, he was filled with a sense of gratifying exhaustion and fulfillment.

Any other type of fight was...

His brain stopped there, as it always did, right on the line between comfort and discomfort.

But for once, Raiden tried pushing it a little farther.

He... He had never been looking for fights of his own volition. It was important to get along, after all, and fights warranted unwanted attention; so logically, he never actively pursued any sort of conflict.

Such a neat, orderly line of thought that was.

He put those ideas together like a math equation, simple and most importantly, _unquestionable_ , because that was how Jack mostly managed himself, how he felt at ease and safe.

The problem was when that logical side of his brain was too busy keeping its head afloat in a sea of alcohol to even bother maintaining that one _other_ side of him restrained under several heavy layers of coherence and reason, when he was too intoxicated to even care about safety.

Though he mostly drank to give himself some courage at parties or large gatherings of people, and booze only caused him to curse a _little_ more than usual while hanging with friendly strangers inside campus, things changed when Jack wasn't in an environment where he had to keep up appearances.

He fought.

He brawled, stopped only for a breather, to clean his bloody nose, maybe, then brawled some more.

It wasn't a common occurrence, since his friends didn't let him go drinking alone too often in the first place—Kevin had had enough with that time he had to take him to get stitches after a particularly violent fight in a filthy, cheap bar downtown that earned him a cut on his arm so deep he collapsed right in front of their room's door due to blood loss. Since then, he had been watching over him like a concerned parent—Never mind him being younger, he'd always make sure Raiden would only drink within the university's perimeter, where he was forced to behave like a somewhat rational human being, where he could only allow his façade to crack ever so slightly.

However, during those times his friends weren't around to stop him, he'd be at it again, picking fights with people as drunk or drunker than him in sleazy pubs and bars, then waking up in his bed with his nerves on edge, pain seething out of every pore in his body.

Yet feeling somehow...

Gratifyingly exhausted.

And fulfilled.

Raiden's shoulders dropped and he went dead silent. Sam's body relaxed as well, apparently pleased by a reaction that was not quite what he wanted, yet sufficient—He was at least _considering_ his words instead of shutting down everything he said in some sort of automatic self-defense mechanism. He waited for him to come back to reality by himself with a shake of his head, the look in his blue eyes somewhat gentler.

"... That's not what we were talking about."

"I suppose not." He conceded, not pushing that particular subject any longer. It made Raiden feel somewhat uneasy—He was used so to Sam pursuing discussion, so it was odd to see him dropping a conversation for good measure. "We were talking about how you were confused."

"Yeah. Yeah, I..." The blonde scratched the back of his head, figuring it would be useless to keep beating around the bush, and mumbled: "I just don't understand how I ended in bed with you out of all people."

Sam made another sound, then walked ahead, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks once again.

"Then let's clear things up right away, shall we?"

"... What?"

"Do you hate me, Jack?"

Taken aback by the question, he stopped looking for an alternative pathway and gave the man a wary look.

"... Do _you_ hate _me_?"

"I asked first."

A shrug, then a bitter look to the left. "You're the one who keeps picking fights with me."

"Hm. And you think that means I hate you? Let me change the question, then: Do you think I hate you?"

"..."

Jack frowned and looked down to his feet, feeling his cheeks get warmer. There was another possibility he had in mind, of course—He hadn't forgotten about his conversation with his friends, no, and the fact it brought to light was more prevalent in his mind than ever.

The fact that Sam picked those fights in some twisted way to _flirt_ with him.

"Well?"

Like a fish out of water, he opened and closed his mouth, staring into his eyes only to find himself looking back to the floor.

There was no way he could say _that_.

"What is it? Seems like you came up with something. Mind sharing with the class?"

The blonde's frown deepened along with the blush on his face and refused to answer, ducking under Sam's arm to keep walking down the hallway. He was having none of it, though, instead taking a hold of his arm and forcing him to stop.

"... Let me go."

"You're not going anywhere until you answer my question."

"Let go of me, Sam."

"No."

"Sam!"

"Jack." He pulled on his arm and Raiden tried escaping to no avail. "Answer me."

"What's the god... damn... point!"

He finally managed to break free from his grasp, shaking his arm with every word until Sam's grip relented. He took a couple of steps back even though the other man made no attempt at getting closer to him, instead crossing his arms on his chest, looking like his patience was running short.

"There is a point."

"No, there's _not._ " He growled through tightly gritted teeth. "It doesn't explain why this happened."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't!" Sam's chest rose with an impatient inhalation.

  
"You're acting like a child."

"Because I don't understand!" Raiden finally shouted, paying no mind to the students nearby who scattered as soon as they heard his voice, looking at them with the same mix of curiosity and fear they would look at an erupting volcano with. "If you had your... your _reasons_ to let it happen, that's fine and dandy, but me...! I-I had no reason to... You know..!"

"So what you're saying that you are not attracted to me at all." He said, tight voice betraying his otherwise cool, amused demeanor. "That you do not feel a single thing for me, not even physically speaking?"

"... _No."_

"Bullshit."

Exactly like during their matches in the dojo, Sam's hand was on his neck faster than he could avoid it, taking hold of his collar and pushing him against a wall nearby. Raiden had to stand on the tip of his feet as the other man pulled him up so he was at the same height, and he stared into his eyes defiantly.

"Are you saying you do not feel a single thing when I do this? Do not lie to me, Jack. I've seen you looking at me when you think I'm not paying attention. In the dressing room. In the hallways. I notice, Jack. And I notice because I'm looking at you, too."

"That's—"

"That's what? That's _what_ , Jack? Are you going to deny everything again? That is what you do best, don't you? Deny, deny, deny, deny everything and pretend you are someone else entirely because you're too much of a coward to admit the truth about yourself, that fighting excites you, that, god forbid, you are attracted to someone who also makes you furious!"

He let go of Jack's jacket and regretted it half a second later when he seized that opportunity to clock him in the face. Groaning, Sam held onto his bloody nose, grinning under his hand, yet he was far from yielding: it took him only a second to regain his strength and promptly return the favor with a fist to the gut that had the blonde struggling to breathe some air back into his lungs, eyes watering up.

"You like this, Raiden." He rumbled. "You _crave_ this. You enjoy this excitement."

Unable to speak, Jack only shook his head violently and charged again, attempting to elbow his stomach but failing just as Sam blocked with his arms and then punched him in the cheek, his head painfully whipping to the side.

"You are so busy lying to yourself and pretending to be what you think is 'normal' because that makes it easier to avoid complications, to go deeper! What you don't understand, my friend, is that this double life will eventually have its toll on you."

"Shut up!"

He managed to kick his thigh and the groan that came from Sam ignited something deep inside of him, his heart accelerating with a mix of thrill and terror. He was—Fuck, he _was_ enjoying this. He had _always_ enjoyed this, he realized, grinning in a triumphal manner as he aimed a punch to his face. When it connected, he felt another rush of pleasure, the pain in his knuckles making his nerves stand on edge and his chest tighten. Sam wasn't planning on staying passive and playing punching bag any longer, though, and he took a hold of his arm and forced him back against the wall, trapping his body again, his smirk as wide as his.

"Are you done avoiding, lying? Are you finally going to leave your little comfort zone you can only step out of when you're shitfaced?"

"You know, it's funny." Raiden laughed despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, Sam's heavily accented words like salt on a wound. "You know all this about me. And you're right! About every single thing. I'm a coward, an hypocrite, a piece of _shit_ —!" He gathered enough strength to push the Brazilian back temporarily, but he didn't withdraw, pinning him once again in less than a second. He snarled in frustration, then continued: "Congratulations! May god forgive me for trying to act like a decent human being in spite of all that!"

"'Decent human being'? Don't make me laugh!" Raiden growled as Sam lifted him off the floor again, the lack of a leverage point rendering any attempts at pushing him back useless. "What is a 'decent human being'—Do you really think something like that exists? "

"That's...!"

"And you think someone who's a piece of shit is better if they lie about it? You're a fool, Jack!"

"You must think I am, if you want me to believe that even knowing all of this _you don't fucking hate me!_ "

"Oh, yeah." He whispered through bloody teeth. "Have no doubt that I think you're the stupidest man on the face of the Earth."

He smashed his lips against Raiden's, swallowing his cry of surprise as his hands flew up to his wrists but didn't do much more than holding onto them. Eyes wide and mind back to the disastrous mess that it had been when he had woken up, Raiden opened his mouth automatically when prompted, tasting metal in the tongue that darted in and that he had to push against in a movement both instinctual and panic-fueled— _Sam was kissing him and he was kissing back_ , he thought dumbly and any other kind of reasonable thought melted when he groaned into his mouth, sending vibrations down his throat that seemed to reach all the way to his spine.

Though bewildered, saying he wasn't enjoying it would've been a downright lie. Senses still heightened from their previous fisticuffs, his brain was too focused on physical sensitiveness, registering every movement and touch taking priority over reasoning. His eyes fluttered close and he tilted his head to let Sam in deeper, though he was still far from relaxed, body tight even when he let go of his jacket to instead claw at his hips. Raiden's hands were settled around his wrists even as they travelled up and down his sides, sneaking under his jacket and feeling him up over his shirt.

 _God_.

“You make me angry, Jack.” Sam whispered, lips still brushing his as he continued a conversation the blonde was having a hard time recalling. “But I do not hate you, no—In fact, I’m hard again because of you.”

Raiden let out an embarrassingly coy yelp when he ground his crotch against his leg, then snarled and bared his teeth like a feral cat, hoping it would distract Sam from his burning face. “Then go jerk off or something, y-you sick son of a bitch—!”

“No, no... that won’t do. And I know it won’t do for you, either.” Raiden hissed against Sam’s mouth when he pressed back on his body, his thigh roughly nudging his erection. “It looks to me like you’ll have to ‘jerk off’ too, so we might as well do it together.”

“... Asshole.”

“I want to fuck you again, Jack. I only remember bits and pieces from our last encounter and I find that regrettable.”

“Let m—” 

The word got lost in his throat, distorted by a guttural, raspy moan clawing its way out of his larynx when Sam’s left hand, that had been following the curve of his spine, dove right down into his underwear. Caught off guard, his hips jumped forward only to rub against the other man’s, the friction making his thighs tremble and eyes roll to the back of his head.

 _Christ_.

“Hm? Were you going to say something?”

“Shut up. Just shut the hell up.”

Glaring straight into his eyes, Jack crushed his mouth into the Brazilian’s as he prepared another snappy remark and Sam let out a pleasantly surprised groan in its stead, gladly opening his mouth to let him in and offering his lips to bite at his leisure. Raiden’s hands went up his neck, then higher, taking hold of his ponytail, pulling hard enough for Sam to growl and retaliate with a painful headbutt that separated their mouths temporarily, a distance that was closed soon after by another desperate kiss. In all honesty, if anyone walked down the aisle and looked from a distance, they would’ve thought they were just brawling as usual—Except their usual fights didn’t involve their lips super-glued together nor their hips thrusting feverishly into each other. Thankfully, the aisle was miraculously empty, and planning to keep it that way, Raiden kept his voice as quiet as he could by muffling his moans on Sam's skin as his hips started losing rhythm and his muscles tightened.

“'You close, bonito?”

“Fuck you.” He stilled, breathing deeply to regain control over his body—Like hell he was gonna let that bastard also beat him at _this_ out of all things.

“It’s okay. It suits you—Ow.” Sam's grimaced when he nudged his side in revenge, then laughed despite the pain. “I need something more, though.”

Raiden pressed his lips in a thin line, cock throbbing at the word 'more'; yet reason put a halt to the wild ideas that came to his head by presenting one very important fact: "We're in public."

"After all we've done so far, _now_ you choose to worry about that?"

"Better late than never. Put me down." Sam mirrored his smirk when he pulled back, allowing him to stand up on his own two legs again.

"I can arrange a place more... private if that's what you need."

"I'm hard now _,_ Rodrigues. I'm not walking to a hotel like this."

"Oh, I didn't mean somewhere that fancy, nor that far. We are very close, actually." Raiden rose his eyebrows, then looked around for said 'private place', brows falling right back down into a frown when his eyes settled on a familiar sign.

"... I'm _not_ doing it in a bathroom! That's gross—"

"It's not the bathroom."

"Then what?"

Sam chuckled and took a hold of his shoulders, turning him around like a spinning top to face a door to his right.

“That there..." A kiss on his cheek. "is my room.”

... Fucker.

“ _You_ _planned this_.”

“Maybe.”

Finally understanding why Sam had kept jumping in his way during their conversation, Raiden laughed in disbelief. He hadn't been looking to start a fight by being a nuisance, no, he had been _guiding him to his room_.

Incredulous smile still in place, he turned around, and promptly punched him in the nose a second time.

"You're a manipulative piece of shit, you know that?" Sam guffawed, spitting more blood as he held his face.

"I—I've been told that before, yes." Sam's bloody hands reached for him and Raiden allowed them to sneak around his sides grudgingly. He pulled him closer then, the curly strands of hair that escaped his ponytail brushing his face as he leaned down and whispered: "You're welcome."

It was during the midst of that kiss, shallower, but not less passionate than any of their previous ones, that they stumbled their way into his room. They refused to part from each other once inside, even if it took Raiden three whole minutes to properly lock the door with Sam's hands and lips going placesthat were nothing short of intriguing and that made his fingers twitch and slip on the lock bunglingly. He was pushed against the door again as soon as he somehow finished to turn the damn thing, and if he hadn't intervened as fast as he did, he was sure Sam would have ripped out the jacket off his body with his bare hands, eager to get him naked as fast as he possibly could.

“Sam, fuck…” He heard a chuckle rumble around his neck, and he rubbed against him again.

“That’s the idea.”

“Shut up—Bed. Bed.”

How didn't they trip on each other's feet on their way to the bed was an unexplainable mystery. He finally felt the edge of the bed with the back of his knees, and he let himself fell on his back with an oomph and as he watched Sam crawl on top of him, getting rid of his own jacket and shirt in the process, a single question crossed his head:

' _What in the world are you doing?_ '

It was the little voice he drowned with booze whenever he wanted to do something outside of his carefully manufactured behavior, the one that was otherwise in charge 24/7. It had slowly lost its grip on the reigns of his consciousness the moment he decided to listen to Sam's words, and now it was coming back to tug at the back of his brain to regain a little control. It had no success, however, thoroughly ignored as Jack found himself relishing the new, clear thoughts that ran through his head without denial censoring what it deemed _wrong_ and _abnormal_.

Raiden focused on his rival's naked torso as he crawled over him instead, bed complaining under their moving weights. It matched the very detailed picture of it in his head from all those times he had looked at him in the dressing room, when he thought the other man hadn't been paying attention, memorizing and questioning every scar as he felt his lips dry up to the sight.

Memories he had suppressed and transformed into something else entirely started resurfacing, layer after layer of denial dissolving with every kiss and touch. He _had_ been looking at Sam. He had been looking at him, and not out of harmless curiosity like he had told himself multiple times until he started believing it. He had been checking him out for months, just like Courtney said, and with that realization, a weight off his chest was lifted and he found himself laughing in relief as Sam placed open mouthed kisses on his stomach.

"Hm. Ticklish?"

"No... No, I'm not."

"Oh. Then what's so funny?"

"... Me."

"Hm?"

"Nothing, I'm just... realizing what an idiot I am."

How much more had he been missing by restraining himself in some foolish attempt to adjust to his idea of 'normal', he wondered, the voice in the back of his head dead silent for once. Carefully crafted bounds disappeared and for the first time in years, Raiden felt relaxed and uncaring. This was nice, he thought, allowing Sam to turn him around so he was lying on his stomach, working his pants off his body easily. He felt somewhat bashful, yet arousal was predominant, and his already dripping cock throbbed with excitement when one hand ran over the inside of his thighs, teasing.

"Raise your hips, Raiden."

He obeyed without question, heart thumping a hundred times per hour, and while one hand held his waist, the other probed his entrance. Jack tensed up, hissing as a sharp pain crawled up his back and Sam pulled his fingers back, letting out a troubled harrumph.  


“Still hurts?"

"'The hell did you do to me last night...?" Looking over his shoulder, he saw the Brazilian raise his eyebrows behind him.

"Me? Only what you wanted. You asked me to not prepare you—I warned you it would hurt yet that only made you more..." He paused, lips tense with a snicker he was doing a poor job at containing. "... excited."

Raiden's face flushed with shame, and he looked away.

He was NEVER going to drink again.

"S-So what now? Do we just stop?"

"Hm. As much as I would love to relive every single detail from our encounter last night, I don’t think that’s going to be possible. Not without alcohol numbing you enough to not feel a thing without lubrication.”

“Then what are you proposing we do? Are we really just gonna jack off and be done with it?”

“Ah, as much as I’d like to try that eventually, right now I have another idea.”

“Idea…?”

He held onto Raiden’s waist to pull his ass up higher and the blonde felt something hard and soft slide between his cheeks. For a moment, he thought he’d just enter him in spite of his words, but then Sam thrust his hips forward, pushing his asscheeks closer together so they would partially envelop his cock.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“You went quiet so suddenly, Jack.” The bed creaked as he leaned down to align torsos with him, hands still firmly holding his cheeks together, mouth on the back of his ear before speaking again: “You don’t like it? Should we do something more traditional?”

“Ngh—no… no… n—!” He inhaled sharply when the Brazilian thrust with so much strength his legs gave out, and he found himself completely trapped under his rival, body flat against the bed and cock pressed between the mattress and his lower stomach. “No—T… this is… this is—Uh—interesting.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah. That means don’t stop, Rodrigues.”

“Heh. Alright. Then let’s keep it ‘interesting.’”

Raiden was glad the pillow was there to stifle his embarrassing panting as Sam started moving again, his thrusting making his own erection rub against the sheets roughly. Sometimes the tip of his cock would push against his entrance and Raiden mewled, shaking his hips instinctively and making Sam laugh breathlessly against his neck.

"It will heal soon enough bonito, you'll see. And then I will make you beg for mercy—You'll scream so loudly that the entire state of Colorado will know we're fucking like rabbits."

"Hah... I'd like to see you try—!"

He got cut off by the man's fingernails burying themselves in his skin, next to very recent scratches from the evening before. It stung, it stung _good_ and Raiden squirmed beneath him, panting like an animal in heat, muffling his voice with the pillow as he moaned his name. Sam, now a breathless, trembling mess just like him, pulled him away from it, bringing him closer to the feet of the bed and earning himself a complaint from the blonde.

"Don't. Let me hear you."

He wanted to elbow the bastard, but decided to focus on reaching his rapidly building orgasm instead, drooling on the bed sheets and placing his arms between the mattress and his body to keep himself from passing out under Sam's weight as he started thrusting into him harder, panting his name into his ear along with other words and pieces of sentences in Portuguese he didn't know the meaning of but made heat pool in his belly all the same.

They didn't last much longer, Raiden coming first, body tensing like a spring as he spent himself on white sheets. Sam pulled away to come on his back soon after, warm strings of fluid stinging the bites on his lower back, a pleasant sensation that mixed well with the relief his afterglow filled him with.

"Haah..."

"... 'You okay, blondie?" _How_ did that guy have the energy to talk still after that, Raiden wondered, hiding his face in the mattress irritably.

"Mmhggr..."

A long silence settled in the room after the other man's chuckle, only interrupted temporarily by Sam moving around the bed to lay by Raiden's side. When the blonde stopped feeling like his body was pulsing to the rythm of his heart, he dared to give him a look, and he found his eyes staring straight at his face. He turned around, cheeks warming up all over again.

"W-What?"

"You seem happy."

"..." Raiden was about to deny it, but caught himself just in time, and decided to try honesty for once: "I feel... better."

"... Better?"

"Yeah." He could hear the shock in Sam's voice at his sincerity, and he couldn't blame him. "I feel like... like a weight was lifted off of me."

"Hm. That weight would be me." Raiden laughed and shook his head.

"Yeah, that too. Ever consider going on a diet?"

"Oh, it would be pointless—I assure you all this weight is nothing but muscle."

They both chuckled, and Raiden realized this was probably the first civil conversation they had had in months, the most peaceful once since they met so long ago and crossed swords for the first time.

... It was... different.

And not a bad kind of different.

"I'm glad you feel better." He looked over at him again, but this time Sam's eyes were on the ceiling, heavy-lidded with drowsiness.

"Yeah... Th..." He stopped himself, then looked away once more. "... anks..."

"Hm?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Maybe this 'nightmare' wasn't so terrible, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> English is my second language, so i’m quite insecure of my writing. Any criticism regarding writing is well-received!


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